Through Their Eyes
by Casyn
Summary: Something different, for once. One shot, drabble piece. Severus always sees them and he always sees the looks in their eyes. The lessons he teaches are great, the ones he learns are even greater.  Contains mention of abused and self harming teens. R&R.


_A/N: Do not own. Bit different from my other stories. Let me know what you think._

There are things that he cannot explain. He cannot explain why he prefers solitary to being surround with his colleagues and their idle chatter. He cannot explain why he uses sarcasm to mask hurt or discomfort. Most importantly, he cannot explain how he always knows. He sees them, when no one else does. Perhaps that is because he was once one of them, perhaps because he looks for it. Perhaps because he is always watching, and when he notices the smallest hint, he looks even closer. He watches, he waits. And then, when he is sure that something is not quite right, he subtlety starts to drop hints of his knowledge. First to his colleagues, which is sometimes all that is needed. But sometimes they do not see the same signs, sometimes the student hides it well or perhaps it is just a small glimmer, a little glimpse that is so hard to spot. Then he must talk with the students, find some excuse to keep them after class for a moment or assign a detention. Asking is the hardest, for both him and his students. First there is the denial, the 'I have no idea what you mean, Professor'; then it becomes 'It was my fault, Sir' or "Only when I make him/her angry Professor'. Fear follows with the 'Will you tell?' and 'Please sir, it's nothing, please'. It is never the words that make it hard, but always looking into those young eyes. Sometimes he wished that he did not demand for eye contact, although it made recognizing the truth so much easier. Hard eyes with no emotion were the worst, the already broken child. The next were the fearful eyes, the eyes that pleaded for his silence, for fear of what his words might cause.

His words varied based on situations. Those who were harming themselves were sent to Poppy; those who were being harmed at home differed. The worst cases he took to the headmaster, no matter the pleads. The looks of hurt and betrayed trust tore at his heart but how could he explain to an eleven year old that what was happening was not only wrong but illegal? How could he save a child from such a situation without turning to the headmaster for help? He could not, and he knew that. He had to build up trust with these children, enough so that they would feel safe speaking honestly with him. He was not a man who displayed emotion openly, nor was he one that most, besides his Slytherin, would think of as comforting. But the ones he worked to save learned to see him differently. He was not one to coddle students but he never blamed them and he was a protector for them. The bullied, the abused, even the self harming. He would try to save them, but they had to work with him. Which was often problematic at first. This cold, hard professor offering to listen to a student that was not one of his, it was almost too good to be true for them. Their hero, the one they always dreamed of rescuing them, was not superman but the greasy git, the bat of the dungeons. The ones he sought out learned quickly that while he was not always nice, he cared. And for many, this would be the first time in their young lives that someone actually cared about them. He would even _hug_ them, when they worked themselves into such a state, but always cautiously. He made them aware of his every movement, from handing them a handkerchief to placing a firm but gentle hand on their shoulders. He showed them that they did not have to fear him. He taught them that not all adults were cruel or heartless. With their permission, he would even tell their heads of house, would help them tell, showing them that many adults cared for them. For the cases that could not be removed from their homes, although he would speak with the headmaster in private, he would also talk to the students. Offer them a solace of sorts, a chance for the respect and care that they deserved. An open door, and a listening ear, whenever they needed it, with the promise to do his best to find a way to help them.

For every five children who came through his office for discipline, one came for comfort and a listening ear. Sometimes that was all he could do, be there for those children. He never pitied them, for they did not need his pity. But he did, despite perceived notions about him, was care. He cared for these children and he would do everything in his power to help them. To these children he was a saviour. He was there for them, whenever they needed him, even in the middle of summer vacation. For Severus Snape was not heartless, quite the opposite really. His heart cried out for these children. For the bullied child who had few, if any, true friends. For the self harming child who did not know how to cope with the horrors in their life. For the abused child who did not have someone to care for and love him. These were the children that caused him to become a Head of House; these were the children that broke his shell. These were the children that he fought for, cared for. These were the children that he sought to protect: from bullies, from parents, and even from themselves. These were the children that taught him how to love again, how to feel, how to forgive. These were the children that he taught not just potions, but trust and what it feels like to have someone care about them and what they did. He taught them right from wrong, to take ownership of their mistakes, and that there were consequences for their actions. He taught them that they were loveable, worth something, irreplaceable. But to him it was not the lessons that he taught these children, these hurt, scared children, that mattered most. No, to him it was the lessons that they taught. The lessons that Severus would never, ever forget.


End file.
